


I Love the way You Love Me

by ScribbleWillow (Soul_in_the_Starlight)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul_in_the_Starlight/pseuds/ScribbleWillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one way to prove he's still the same man...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love the way You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> What distracted the Doctor on that little 'running her in' test drive to the moon...

His hearts had been thundering as he fumbled with the key; the _tease_ , she could have opened up to him, but no, she made him wait, made him _unlock_ his new box of delights.  
  
He'd felt the prickle of increased energy as he'd told her she was sexy; she was returning the compliment. They both had a new face, a new body, a new perspective on the universe.  
  
He pored over her new console, long fingers caressing each and every new shape and texture as he set course for the moon. He'd felt her reciprocal searching of his own new physique, energy surrounding him, running through him, trying him on from the inside and liking what she found from every angle.  
  
 _You sexy thing..._  
  
When they were safely ensonced on Earth's moon, he hurriedly removed his jacket and unfastened his tie, hearts hammering, senses burning with the sight of her, the sounds she made, how she felt beneath his fingers, even her smell. He settled himself in the old car seat she'd decided to place near the console deck, and slowly, deliberately unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the tails from his trousers, a sultry smile curving his new lips, feeling her tingle of indignation as he took his time, teasing her.  
  
With his shirt now free of the waistband, he unhooked the button. Now he fed her silent terms of endearment, as he unzipped his fly with stoic deliberation in the face of her persuasive pleading; her energy fields surrounded his exposed skin in the most tantalising way, urging, begging him.  
  
"Oh, you really are _beautiful_ ," he breathed, eyes wide, taking in the sight of her as he freed himself from the confines of his trousers.  
  
She loved the sight of him in this vulnerable state, always had, whatever face he wore. But this one... there was something different, more willing to allow himself to connect, and her lights imperceptibly dimmed and brightened softly, in time with the rhythm of his pulse.  
  
He lay back now on the low chair, legs wide apart, shirt open, and sleeves rolled up. His head was tilted back and to one side back, exposing a glorious expanse of slender neck; hair wild, eyes closed and lips parted, as his hand began a slow, gentle rhythm that elicited soft, shuddering gasps as she enveloped his mind in her ethereal caress.  
  
He could taste her all around him, the sharp fizzle of her excitement as she drew his mind closer to her, revelling in the feelings as he quickened his pace, chest heaving, breaths deep and hard, brow now furrowed in intense concentration.  
  
She could even forgive the fleeting images that flashed across his mind; short skirt, black seams, blood red nails and a mane of that yearned for ginger...  
  
She could forgive it because it drove him on; harder faster, and she eagerly fed on the building tension. It was like sitting on the edge of an erupting supernova, the force, the power, building higher and denser until the explosion.  
  
She waited, as he pushed him self up from the seat,  a sheen of sweat across his chest and face, cheeks flushed, moistening his lips with his tongue. He staggered towards the console, hand still playing out the desperate rhythm as he collapsed over it, panting, free hand clutching at the central column, the time rotor matching his stroke.  
  
"Now," he murmured, then more urgently: "NOW!"  
  
His knees gave way, and he slipped down onto the transparent deck as the first spasm bent him double. He could see her, see the heart of her in the floor below him, opening up to him as she absorbed the energy, the _force_ of his euphoria, even devouring the spatters before they barely touched the floor. She looked up at him from her centre, her Doctor on his hands and knees, looking down at her smiling, having given himself to her, body and soul.  
  
He rolled onto his side, clothes still gaping, lungs slowing gradually as he drifted into sleep. This is why they were the last: why they still ran while the others had grown stale and stagnant. This is what gave him the courage to end it all, that time of terror. Because he was fearless. Not in battle, but in spirit; and this is why she would always protect him.  
  
He wasn't afraid to give her his love.


End file.
